The Flat Gray Sea
by J.D.Bell
Summary: One Shot- Dramione. Hermione is damaged after a run in with Dolohov after the war. TTC other than Dolohov surviving the duel with Flitwick.


A/N: Dramione that I really just wanted to explore after a random muse struck. One shot. Please review!

* * *

I hadn't expected that I would meet Draco Malfoy again. The last time I saw him was in my rear view mirror as I drove away from Malfoy Manor. He was running behind the car. Running in a full suit and tie. How very unlike him. It didn't matter. We were really done months before I drove away but I kept hanging on. Loathing the thought of the crunch of the gravel drive beneath my tires. Like the crunch of so many dead and dried memories that have floated and flitted in the breeze away from me. Dead, dried, done and definitive. I winced when the car left the ornamental cobblestone circle. I knew it would sound like that. I also knew that he would sound like that when I told him I wanted to leave. Like he wanted me to stay- like I was worth keeping. Like he would finally fight for me. The running though. Curious.

I've been to countless doctors, medi-witches, curse-breakers, counselors, shrinks, magic specialists, aura consultants. None of them have cured me. Everything is grey. There was a time when I think was considered the brightest witch of our age. I can't remember what that was like. So much is missing. Why just yesterday I tried to recall the however many uses of dragon's blood. It is just gone- as if I'd never raised my hand confidently and spouted it off. Who was it who invented those uses anyway? Did I really ever know that? There are more examples. I try not to think about such things anymore.

I read. I read and I don't remember. I read and I don't remember and I reread. I read and I don't remember and I reread and then I forget that I read. Read, read, read. Stick, stick, stick. Nothing is there. A sea of glass unbroken by waves and a façade. Hiding the terrible truth beneath the sea. The monster in the deep that is eating me whole. Draco tries to ignore the monster. He is always polite and always kind. When I told him last night that I felt myself losing it and I wondered at his patience he froze again. As if to acknowledge the monster is to feed it. I am trying to win a war of attrition. I won't feed it my despair. I won't be trapped anymore beneath that flat grey sea. Driving away from him seemed best.

* * *

Draco stopped running. He couldn't catch her this way and he didn't know of any spells to halt the vehicle without hurting its occupant. It just felt good to run after her. To exert himself when he so often did not. It was gratifying. In spite of the reality of the situation he chuckled. Hermione had just driven off in one of the few muggle vehicles he owned. It happened to be a classic Rolls Royce but the cost of the blasted thing was incomparable to the woman within. He caught his breath and cast his Patronus, a Pigmy Chinese Fireball, "Harry, mate, real bad news. The phoenix has flown the nest again. "

Potter wouldn't be pleased but it wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last. She never remembered the escapes and the attempts at escape and they always started on the same page. Twenty years ago, the day that Ron was killed dueling Antonin Dolohov. Malfoy ruefully wondered how much regret Flitwick must live with that he did not kill him when he'd had the chance. None of it mattered because only reality mattered. Twenty years had passed. Hermione had given birth, forgotten she gave birth, had a daughter, forgotten she'd had a daughter and lived almost every day of it at Malfoy Manor.

There was no diagnosis for her. The staff at St. Mungo's on the combined budget afforded them from the Weasley/Potter/Malfoy fortunes was not enough to find the cause or the cure of her illness. The muggle doctors said that she had what appeared to be early onset Alzheimer's. It was the closest to the truth that they'd encountered and Malfoy had to hand it to the muggles that at least they were trying to fight the vicious disease with genome mapping and experimental cures. Draco was certain it was not what Hermione was afflicted with. Dolohov had held Hermione hostage for five days before Ron Weasley had found him. Considering that Draco had seen how Dolohov operated at Death Eaters revels, he was surprised that Hermione was alive and he couldn't imagine what she'd experienced if she ever did remember any of it.

The final confrontation in an abandoned factory on the docks of Worthing was a mystery to everyone. They knew only that Dolohov and Ron were dead and they found Hermione holding Ron's dead hand on the just noticeable bump beneath the rags for clothing that she was wearing. To hear Potter talk of it he suspected that it was an image that he was glad to be spared. After that, Ginny said that Harry's nightmares were no longer about Voldemort.

They were an unlikely trio, Harry, Ginny and Draco but it worked and Hermione was the glue that initially held them together. He was the best curse breaker that the wizarding world had seen. It was a gift of his upbringing in the Manor surrounded by cursed objects. He'd cracked every old home left behind by the oldest and darkest legacies of the war. They brought Hermione to him hoping he'd cure her after all the medi-witches and doctors had given up and he had tried. Tried so hard and failed.

Tried even at the expense of his marriage. He didn't think he recalled an argument. Astoria poked her head over the library door, said, "Draco. I've left the divorce papers in your office." He thinks anyway. He never paid her any mind once he was on Hermione's case- or really any other case- he was so single-minded. She deserved better and he was glad she'd found it. Those first years after the war and with Hermione were obsessive. He was sorry now. They'd never had any children and he'd hoped to.

He just couldn't fail. Three years he read, tried, read, tried again and then he flew around the world consulting others and studying similar cases for another two. In the end, he'd utterly failed. Hermione had been permanently installed at Malfoy Manor in the interim because he couldn't truly concede defeat. She became his life-long project. He'd put up magical buffers in the east wing, terrace and garden and Harry and Ginny thought it was such a serene environment that it was perfect. And it was. He'd frequently find her with a book in front of the rose garden. If she never spoke you would never suspect when you saw her in that attitude.

She escaped occasionally and they would find that she could somehow modify the wards of Malfoy Manor wandlessly. They never got an answer out of her as to how she was able to do it. Harry put his best aurors on the best wards they could build and she would still break them. Usually they found her at the sea. They didn't understand her need to see the waves crashing upon themselves and over the rocks.

Draco continued to search the world around for a cure after those feverish five years and he spent his off time with Hermione as his companion. He was frequently home with her since he was only consulted on large cases now and only needed to take few to keep himself and his home. He never even touched the Malfoy fortune. He'd probably spent more at Hogwarts then the last fifteen years combined. Harry and Ginny would come over at least once a week. They'd adopted Rose and in addition to their own three kids and Teddy Lupin it was a boisterous crowd that visited.

Hermione loved the children when they were young especially. In their presence she seemed almost normal- if you exclude that she never recognized or acknowledged Rose as her own. Of course, Rose knew the truth and in addition to Harry and Ginny, now that she was grown and working at the ministry, Rose would come at least once a week and sit and read with Hermione. They were identical except for the hair color. Her daughter was brilliant too. Malfoy usually sat with them. Whenever Hermione was not focusing on her books it allayed her fears to see Malfoy there. Through the haze she seemed to recall him the most consistently.

The last six months had been an interesting period for Draco and Hermione. To him, it seemed that there was a glimmer of lucidness in her. They would have discussions about easy things. Things a first year at Hogwarts would have no difficulty in speaking of. He was astonished at how sharp her mind still was even as she wasted away. One particular instance that had surprised him was an argument about the outcome of the second Goblin war in 1412. It was hotly contested among historians that the war had never had a definitive outcome. Hermione argued with him with passion and spouted off dates, figures and places as if they were sitting in Binns class again. He was so astonished he forgot to finish defending his point. She had seemed to shrink from his silence. And then it was gone. Two hours later Draco had to introduce her to the house elf that had been helping her ready for bed for twenty years. The next day had held a similarly lucid argument except this time she argued that she wanted to leave and he'd argued that he wanted her to stay. That he enjoyed her company and their talks- and he did- she was interesting even when she was disoriented. She said she was boring and losing it. She'd never said anything that self actualized in twenty years. He looked at her in shock and again she retreated. He really needed to get his reaction time faster. The moment seemed to be gone before it had started.

He sighed and floo'd the Potters who commiserated with him. It was hard on him and, over the years, he believed he'd come to love her as much as they did. Sometimes he wondered if he was, in fact, _in love_ with her. He sighed and had a good laugh at his own expense. The love of his life was a woman whom he needed to introduce himself to each morning over coffee. Ordinary life is magic that way. His mother had said that often before she died.

The evening that she left they traced her through her charmed medical bracelet to a muggle market on the sea side and waited until she was in a discreet location to stun her and transport her back to her room in Malfoy Manor.

* * *

I'm awake but why am I here and why is Draco Malfoy here? I hadn't expected see him again and I thought that was clear when I drove away. I can still see him running behind me in my mind's eye. He is sitting in a chair in the corner of the room taking his morning coffee and reading the Times. As always. Every day now for the last six months. Why isn't he as sick and tired of this and of me as I am? I clear my throat and he gives me a full smile. I can't remember if he ever smiled like that when we were kids but I like it now. Did we know each other as kids? Why would I think that?

He is talking. Seems to be introducing himself. Why? "Draco. Don't be absurd."

He stops. His expression holds an unspoken question. I hate that expression when he wears it. It is how I knew it was over when we argued. He didn't care enough to keep up his side when the going got tough and it is going to get tough. The monster needs to die. He starts again but I interrupt, "Listen. How did I get here? I left yesterday."

This time he almost interrupts me and his face is shining like a childs in Honeydukes. What's honeydukes? "You remember leaving?"

"I remember you running after me. That was funny."

He sits there agape and then suddenly shoots up from the chair, spills coffee all over himself, curses as it has no doubt burned him and then throws his head into the fire. "HEAD AUROR!"

I hear Harry Potters unmistakable voice. He is a nice man. He says that we are best friends, "What is it? Can it wait? Has the phoenix flown again so soon?"

"GET HERE! NOW!"

Hermione gets out of the bed and walks over to Draco, "Why ever would you need Harry here? I told you yesterday that I wanted to leave. That clearly we were finished with this charade. I'm daft. I know. I can't remember a thing from the past and no one can fix me. You deserve better."

Draco moves closer to her, "Hermione, what is the furthest back you _can_ remember?"

"Everything before the last six months is pretty hazy to be honest and even in the last six months I've been reading and trying to remember but everything just leaves my mind after I finish reading. I try to sit still and force it to stay in my mind but it doesn't. Sometimes I still forget day to day things. I should have remembered Widgit that one night. She is always so kind when she puts me to bed."

Draco has been looking at her like a man looking at a circus trick, "Stop looking at me like that!"

He breaks his expression, "Sorry, Hermione, I just can't believe it. You remember me and you remember Harry!"

"Of course I do. I remember Ginny too and her children coming to visit. I like my visits with Rose especially."

Harry gasped as he rounded the corner of the room, "Good Lord! Did I just hear that?!"

Draco says, "Yes! I can hardly believe it either!"

They hug. For some reason that seems odd to me. Have they always been friends? I guess it doesn't matter if I don't remember. They are friends now. What does the past matter if it doesn't matter to them?"

I tap my foot impatiently, "If you two are done."

They turn to me, Harry first- his eyes glistening, "Hermione, my sister, my best friend. You're back. I've missed you." He walks quickly to me and embraces me. It feels so good. Why do I feel like Harry is a part of me? My best friend? Just like he said. Strange how my emotions get away with me.

Draco is slower. Harry lets me go and he says to him, "Mate, I've got to go tell Ginny. We will be back tonight if that's OK with you."

He nods and Harry looks at him. There is something that passes between the two of them that I don't understand. He whispers something to Draco before stepping into the fireplace. It sounded to me like good luck. Why would luck have anything to do with it?

Draco continues to look at me. There is that question again. "Just ask."

"I… I… I don't know what to ask."

"If you're wondering, does she remember that every morning for the last 6 months you've been here? Every evening, you've eaten, walked the gardens and hugged her goodnight, sometimes for longer than propriety would allow, the answer to all is yes."

He didn't speak. "I have a question for you Draco."

He swallowed and nodded assent, "Why do it?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Does the name Ronald Weasley mean anything to you?"

"Vaguely. I feel pain and I see more red than grey when I think of him but it is gone under the current. Just color now. I can't think of it or remember it. Draco. Answer me."

"I'm trying. Hermione, it isn't that easy. Trust me when I say I need to go slow."

"You haven't even kissed me the way I've seen Harry kiss Ginny. Are you supposed to kiss me?"

He looked shocked.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"I don't know."

"This is why I left! I may live in a sea of flat grey bleakness but if my one shimmer of the sun is to be you, Draco Malfoy, then I can't stand it to be only mediocre!"

"Hermione- give me time. Things aren't grey for me. I'm not rubbing it in your face. I remember everything."

She thought for a moment and then said, "OK. How long?"

He laughs! Why? "Why not another six months? I'm in no rush."

She laughs too. He is laughing so why not? Then he does something unexpected. He hugs her and this time long enough that propriety is certainly offended. The hug makes me forget the sound of the gravel under the tires yesterday. This is a good forgetting.

* * *

I'm falling asleep. The day has been lovely. Ginny and Harry visit and Rose, that sweet girl. We sit in the Garden and sip tea and talk about the evening sky. I recognize some of the constellations. Draco patiently reminds me. He's holding my left hand and Rose is holding my right. As I drift away I see myself on a small boat. And there, up ahead, to my great surprise are sun speckled waves containing my memories of the last six months- Draco and Harry and Ginny and Rose. They are gentle and they rock me to sleep. Far, far underneath us the monster sinks further into the deep.


End file.
